


The Greatest Show

by Lexalicious70



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27088903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexalicious70/pseuds/Lexalicious70
Summary: Quentin Coldwater attends the circus and meets a mysterious young magician who offers him a glimpse into that world of magic--and much more.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21
Collections: Kinktober Horror Erotica Collection by Quentins_Quill





	The Greatest Show

**Author's Note:**

> For Kinktober: The Queliot Edition, day 18: "Backstage at the Circus." 
> 
> This fic is sort of a preview for my NaNo next month, so if you read my work regularly, you've caught a glimpse into what I'm planning!

When he was a small boy, Quentin Coldwater used to dream of running off to join the circus. 

Now he was here, at eighteen, not to join but to take in all the sights and sounds his strict father, Ted, had denied him as a boy. The circus, Ted always said, was not full of magic but of vagrants, thieves, and runaways who would be more than happy to empty your pockets and send you away, broke and more than a little puzzled about how you ended up that way. 

But now, as Quentin stood in the midway, between the brightly-colored tents and breathing in air that smelled like powdered sugar, fried treats, sawdust, and the mysterious smells of circus animals, he knew his father had been wrong. There was magic here--he could feel it, swirling around him like snowflakes and he grinned as he wandered in and out of tents, feeling both giddy and fearful that he had lied to his father about spending the night at a study session with friends, but the lure of the circus seemed especially powerful this year, even though he was now officially an adult. 

He stopped at one of the tents and read the sign, spelled out in black, curved letters: 

**_La Tente Magique_ **

“The Magic Tent,” Quentin muttered, and slipped inside. A ring of chairs surrounded the main stage, and Quentin sat in one close to the center. There were maybe six others there. The tent went dark, then the center stage lit up. A man stood there all at once, a tall youth with wild, dark curls, a beautiful jawline, and dressed in black and purple. He gave a courtly nod to his audience and then clapped his hands together. As he drew them apart, a brilliant ball of light grew there. The inside swirled with colors and as Quentin watched, transfixed, the ball left the magician’s hands and floated over his head, where it burst and released a flock of butterflies, from bright monarchs to delicate blue-and-white species Quentin had never encountered or seen in any book. The magician moved on then, performing tricks that gave rise to glittering moons, roaring tigers made of flame that stalked the tent until a horse herd made of water doused it out, and most startling of all, a tree made entirely of stardust the magician plucked from one coat pocket and tossed into the air. Once the performance was over, each guest was treated to a candied apple as they left the tent. 

Quentin took his apple from the smiling barker as he was shown the exit, but his mind was on the tall magician; the way his amber eyes seemed to spark each time he performed a trick, the way he’d favored Quentin with a mysterious smile more than once during the performance, his big, elegant hands. Quentin tucked his wrapped apple away in his Sharo bag and snuck around the side of the tent, looking for a back entrance. There had been no placard for the magician, no grand introduction--only his appearance and the wonderful magic tricks he’d performed in silence. 

The tent appeared to have no back entrance, and Quentin frowned curiously as he poked at the canvas with both hands. How had the magician come and gone? Was there another way in? 

A hand fell on his shoulder and he gasped, turning. The tall magician gazed down at him with an expression that was neither angry or reproachful, only mildly curious. 

“What are you looking for?” He asked in a voice so sensual that it seemed to drip verbal honey. Quentin swallowed hard. 

“I . . . nothing. I only--I wanted to meet you,” he admitted, and a smile touched the magician’s amber eyes. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. Uhm. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to trespass. I’ll go--” 

The big hand touched his shoulder and Quentin froze despite its gentleness. 

“You needn’t leave.” The hand turned him and the magician’s black, purple trimmed cape fluttered. “I am Eliot Waugh, circus magician.” 

“I’m, uh . . . I’m Quentin Coldwater. Non-magician.” 

“Are you quite certain?” 

“What?” 

“That you are a non-magician. I watched you during the show . . . you drank up my magic like a thirsty foal at a silver forest lake.” A long finger touched his chin and Quentin shivered. 

“No, I . . . I’m nothing! Just a college student.” 

“Perhaps you don’t know yourself, is all. Would you like me to assess your ambient magic? Some people have it their whole lives and never know. Would you like to know, Quentin Coldwater, so you can become something greater than you are now?” 

Quentin stared up into Eliot’s eyes. They seemed to flicker with starlight, like what that magical tree had been made of. He’d never seen that kind of light in anyone’s eyes before. But magic wasn’t real, of course . . . his father would have told him that. 

_ Magic? Don’t be foolish, Quentin! There’s no such thing. You’ve got to start growing up!  _

He was right, of course, there was no such thing as real magic and this man probably just wanted to pick his pocket or something . . . but still.  _ Still _ . 

“Yes,” Quentin replied before he was even aware he was going to speak. “I want to know.” 

“Don’t be frightened,” Eliot whispered, and lowered his head to Quentin’s. Quentin’s eyes widened as the magician’s lips touched his, brushed against them, then claimed them in a kiss like Quentin had never experienced before. Granted, he’d been kissed on the lips exactly twice before this, but this made those feel like a peck from his elderly aunt when she came to visit from Hackensack. This was a knowing kiss, one given by a man who had kissed many men, and much more, in the past. One that seemed to search through his mind and body, as if those long fingers were browsing him like a book. Quentin moaned and his hands twitched before they rose and gripped the edges of Eliot’s cape. When the taller youth pulled back, he was smiling and licking his lips as if he’d tasted something exotic.

“You have more ambient magic than anyone I’ve ever met, Quentin Coldwater. Tell me . . . do you fancy becoming a magician’s apprentice? I could teach you all you ever dreamed of, and more.” 

“Me? You mean . . . join the circus?” 

“Join it, join me . . . I saw your dreams, and they eclipse anything that binds you to this place.” The amber eyes gleamed. “I can help you bring them to life.” 

Quentin thought of his father’s demands, the boredom of life at Columbia U, the endless studying, the groups he didn’t fit into, and his friends who did. Would a life at the circus, at this man’s side, be what he needed? It couldn’t be real. But still. Yes . . .  _ still _ . 

Eliot saw the answer in the young man’s eyes and took his hand. Quentin felt sparks jump from his fingers to Eliot’s. It didn’t hurt. And the sparks looked joyful. 

“Come,” Eliot smiled. “We have a million dreams to realize and endless worlds to create together.” He waved a hand, and a swirling portal appeared, filled with light and color. Eliot stepped into it and Quentin followed, his dark eyes reflecting the colors that danced all around him. 

He never once looked back. 

THE END 


End file.
